The May House

Prologue

ONCE UPON A TIME,” Grandma Vera said. “There were three sisters…”

Julia, Emily, and Nora May sat perched on the edge of a lounge chair, huddled up close, listening with rapt attention to their grandmother, who was fresh off performing in a run of Lilies of the Field at the Coronado Playhouse and had a flair for telling dramatic stories, making even her small California backyard feel like a stage.

The evening fog descended from the ocean as Grandma Vera told her story, blanketing Coronado Island, and despite the glow of the firepit in front of them, and the warmth of Grandma Vera’s voice so close, the three sisters still let out a collective shiver.

Grandma Vera picked up a big wool blanket and gently threw it across their laps, tucking it around their legs. Then she picked up three sticks, each with a marshmallow on the end, and handed one to each girl to roast over the fire, before continuing her story.

“You, my tiny songbird,” she said to the youngest sister, Nora, as she began to assemble their treats, “are like these graham crackers. You squish us all together with the best and biggest hugs.”

Six-year-old Nora giggled and handed over her stick with the browned marshmallow so Grandma Vera could finish assembling her s’more.

“And you, my beautiful cynic,” she said to the middle sister, Emily, “are both deliciously bitter and sweet like this glorious dark chocolate.”

Nine-year-old Emily wasn’t exactly sure if that was a compliment, but chocolate was her favorite food group, and anyway, being the chocolate seemed altogether better and more special than either graham crackers or marshmallows.

“And you, my darling, responsible Julia,” she said to the oldest sister, “are like these marshmallows. You’re the glue that holds everything together.”

Twelve-year-old Julia shook her head, uncertain, as she took the assembled s’more from Grandma Vera.

As a rule, she wasn’t a fan of anything gooey, sticky, or messy, but Grandma Vera had promised them that a s’more roasted over her backyard firepit would be the very best thing they’d ever tasted.

And also, as a rule, Julia trusted Grandma Vera more than any other adult in her life, aside from Dad.

“And what are you, Gramma?” Nora asked, giggling as the warm chocolate leaked out onto her finger. She licked it off and looked up expectantly at Grandma Vera.

“I’m the one who gets to savor the magic of all three of you now that I’ve gotten your father to agree to let me have you this one week a year.

” She smiled, picking up her own s’more to take a bite.

“So I want you all to promise me something,” Grandma Vera added.

“That no matter how old you get or how many important things you’re off doing, that the three of you will always come back here to visit me, together, just like this.

You can’t have a s’more without the graham crackers, or the chocolate, or the marshmallows. You need all three.”

“I promise,” the May sisters said in unison.

They were sticky, and chilled, and warm, and happy all at once, when Grandma Vera wrapped her arms around them, smooshing them into a giant hug.

“Good,” Grandma Vera said. “A promise is a promise. And I’m going to hold you to it.”